


Thank you for the Music

by i_called_you_a_squirrel



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: (but am i?), Angst with a Happy Ending, Blood and Gore, Blood and Torture, F/F, F/M, Find out!, Hurt Merlin (Merlin), Hurt/Comfort, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, M/M, Magic Revealed, Merlin Needs a Hug (Merlin), Nobody is Dead, Not Canon Compliant, Past Merlin/Will - Freeform, Protective Arthur, So does Arthur, Uther Pendragon's A+ Parenting (Merlin), but is it?, im sorry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-07
Updated: 2020-08-03
Packaged: 2021-03-02 00:01:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Underage
Chapters: 18
Words: 19,641
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23535724
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/i_called_you_a_squirrel/pseuds/i_called_you_a_squirrel
Summary: One day, while running away from some bandits, Merlin and Arthur stumble into a hole and Merlin gets badly hurt. While he's healing, both of them let out some of the hurt they've felt in their lives and learn that they really do trust each other more than anyone else and find that what they feel for each other isn't ordinary. It's destiny. If they could only get back home...akaMorgana's up to some shit again and, as a side effect, these two buffoons have to face their feelings.(also, this is NOT a songfic)
Relationships: Guinevere/Arthur Pendragon, Merlin (Merlin)/Original Male Character(s), Merlin/Arthur Pendragon (Merlin), Morgana/Morgause (Merlin), if you squint
Comments: 43
Kudos: 331





	1. Into the ground

They often ran like this, short of breath (Merlin) and slightly tired (Arthur) – at least tired, for the love of God, how could he keep that pace up when Merlin, who'd had quite a lot of practice running, (always having to fetch things for Arthur quickly lest he be hit by one of the projectiles the King launched toward him on a daily basis or collecting herbs for Gaius, who wasn't shy when it came to reprimanding him when Merlin took too long), was already wheezing? – and the reason for their running was such a recurring one that Merlin sometimes believed he even recognized the bandits chasing them. 

He even thought he'd heard one's alias (or maybe his real name, who knew) a handful of times by then, a "Lion" or something, and he was fairly certain one of them was called "Lizard". 

Once, while they had been fighting, one of the younger bandits was killed… maybe by Percival or Leon, and Merlin’s heart twisted a bit, as he’d come to sort of know the teen and they’d definitely seen each other many times. When those things happened, Merlin was often saddened by the killing (even though it was in the legitimate defense of their lives), and consequentially was called a girl by Arthur. When the really young ones were killed, though, the older man was usually silent as well, and didn’t bother Merlin.

Maybe, though, it was just his mind playing tricks on him, as he knew bandits like those usually moved around so as to not be caught by the Oh So Mighty Knights of Camelot.

"Or maybe you're just an idiot, Merlin, as I've so kindly been telling you all these years", Arthur had said when Merlin voiced his concerns. 

He should've known Arthur was going to play that card – had he even once helped Merlin solve the many mysteries plaguing Camelot? And yet he was the one getting called an idiot. Merlin rolled his eyes at the thought, and immediately regretted it as he stumbled slightly and fell onto Arthur, who had for some reason stopped running, and was looking around the cavernous mound of rocks they had reached, presumably trying to find a place to hide. Something he rarely did. 

"Merlin, I swear to God, if you're the reason we're killed...", he said irritably while getting up as fast as he could, manhandling Merlin up very indelicately.

"You're the one who stopped running, as of now you're getting us killed", Merlin grumbled, short of breath, as they hastily made their way through the uneven rock piles. Arthur shot him a glare, but Merlin only shrugged, clearly immune to it at this point. 

“Here!”, Arthur whisper-shouted as he pulled Merlin into a half-underground sort of narrow and long cave, clearly a path connecting two places, although they weren’t in the castle’s underground tunnels for sure (Merlin had already seen those, and they were much more well-lit and dry). 

The floor was entirely wet, and glistened near the “door”, as the only light that reached the inside came from it. They stood near the entrance, mostly covered by its darkness, standing closer than usual because of how narrow the passageway inside was.

Both of them were silent for a second, listening hard for any sign of the bandits that had been chasing them, but it was hard when they could distantly hear the echo of every single drop of water falling from the ceiling. Arthur stuck his face out of the cave so that he could escape it, but it proved to be difficult to hear anything.

“Shut up, Merlin!” Said Arthur in a low voice. Merlin didn’t notice he’d been breathing loudly, still recovering from all the running.

“I didn’t say anything!” He replied, slightly bewildered. 

“Well, then stop making noise!”

“I’m not!”

Arthur then turned to him, clearly not having full awareness of how close they were standing, and their noses brushed each other’s. He then jerked backwards quickly, hitting his head on the rocky wall. 

“Ouch, Merlin!”

“How is that my fault?” He said, but very soon quieted as both of them exchanged looks, having heard the shoddy boots of the bandits rustling the leaves around and hitting the rocks as they climbed the piles, likely trying to get a better vantage point. 

Both men shifted quietly towards the inside of the cave, where they’d be better hidden, but found they were having a hard time doing so because of the water at their feet. Arthur thanked the lord above that he hadn't had time to armour up in the morning before they were attacked. They stood nearly chest to chest, avoiding looking each other in the eye and feeling the other’s body heat even through their cheeks. They couldn’t move. 

“Hey, Lizard, Little, take a look around these piles…”, Merlin’s chest filled with panic. “We’re going to divide and take these routes. They have to be here somewhere, and you know how much the lady’s paying is. Let’s go, quickly!” The man shouted.

Arthur looked puzzled, and Merlin mouthed to him: “Morgana?” The other man seemed to have understood, but kept looking at Merlin’s face with a strange expression.

Finally, both of them were shaken awake by the echoing footsteps on top of the cave. Arthur’s hand neared his sword, and he started leaning back out the cave – Merlin knew what he was thinking, there was no way that he could take all ten bandits together (only maybe, if they had a lot of luck, or if Merlin could find a way to use his magic without Arthur seeing it), but Arthur could certainly take two of them down by himself, especially if one was called Little.

However, almost as soon as Arthur’s face was hit by light again, he retreated his head, then hastily grabbed Merlin’s arm and inelegantly stumbled deeper into the cave. They picked up their running, realizing they’d just made a lot of noise, but soon entered a bigger, less narrow stretch of the rocky cavern, where they stood still again, listening in to see if anyone had followed. They were both a little run down this time, as it was much harder to run while there’d been water up to their ankles. Arthur leaned on the stone wall and Merlin used his hands on his knees for support while he got his breathing back to normal. 

Finally, Merlin turned to Arthur and teased: “Oh, so Little was too big for you?”

Arthur rolled his eyes and loudly said "Shut up!", but he had a smile on his face. 

They exchanged a fond look with each other and straightened up. 

"Okay, now we have to find a way out of here," said Arthur with authority.

"Or we could just wait it out and leave through the path we know?" Merlin suggested half-heartedly. 

Arthur gave him a look. 

"Fine, let's go explore and get ourselves killed. It'll be fun!"


	2. (further) Into the ground

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As they look for a way out of the cave, something unexpected happens, and Arthur wishes he'd listened to Merlin for once (also unexpectedly).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Strong language in this one so be warned!

A few hours later, Arthur was (shockingly) beginning to doubt himself. They’d been walking around the dark place for what felt like hours and were no closer to finding an exit. There wasn’t even an indication of light. He felt that his socks were already soaked with the cold, cold water, and feared (only in his head of course, he wouldn’t want to frighten Merlin more than the poor bastard surely was already) that night was fast approaching, and so it would get colder and, without light, it would be nearly impossible to find an exit.

It wasn’t even like they could go back through the way they came, as there were so many turns and alleys that they’d probably just get lost. If Arthur hadn’t been trained to track, hunt and well, knight, since he was little, he’s sure that he’d be in panic at that point. Well, actually that had happened, but… He wasn’t going to think about it. Arthur set his jaw in the dark.

And a part of Arthur was also curious about the origins of these tunnels. They might be a threat to Camelot itself, and part of him was glad they’d found it. It didn’t escape him that Morgana had probably sent those men, and so maybe these were her tunnels, which made the situation all the more pressing. “Maybe,” he thought, “she made it with magic, and that’s why it’s all weird and twisted… she might’ve done it wrong. Or that’s the way the spell worked, entrapping the unwanted in a labyrinth until they go mad…”

The man was still trudging forward in a consistent pace, but if the muscles in his well-trained body were already straining, he wondered how Merlin was able to keep up with his annoying commentary (which Arthur was quite grateful for at the moment, not that he’d ever say so) and still not be falling behind. Every now and then, when things had been quiet too long, Arthur would slow down his pace and say something condescending like: “Already tired, Merlin? This’ll teach you to make fun of the knights.” just to hear how distantly Merlin’s response rang. 

He was always right behind Arthur… yes, always. 

At some point, however, they made a turn into a taller “room” inside the cavern, and some light could be seen shining through very distantly, through a small, small hole almost exactly perpendicular to the ground. For one second, Arthur saw the hope in Merlin’s eyes, glowing under the faded light of sunset. Then he saw it dim. 

“How are we going to get up there?” His voice was run-down, in a way Arthur never wanted to hear it again. It was the same hushed voice from when Merlin had said he’d be happy to be his servant ‘til the day he died. The same he’d used when Arthur tried talking to him in that beat-down little inn, when he said that if Arthur wasn’t royalty, he’d “tell him to mind his own goddamn business” because he’d been hurting and Arthur wasn’t letting up. The same one from that awful week when he’d been so upset Arthur had had to say something (he knew he hadn’t been sad because of that stupid bucket of water) . The King hated it profoundly. 

Arthur would’ve laughed if it wasn’t so depressing. Both of them stood briefly watching the light. Arthur looked at Merlin again. He then laughed. 

“What?” Merlin asked pointedly, annoyed. 

“I hate that fucking hole!” He said, in between laughs.

Merlin stared at him blankly, then cracked up a bit.  


“You’re the fucking King, and you’re stuck in a cave very, very far away from the castle, don’t know how to leave, don’t know where we’ve been walking towards and we’re stood here laughing at our only hope at the top of an unclimbable wall,” he said quickly, half-angry, half-laughing in despair. “How did this even happen?”

“Come on, now,” tried Arthur, looking at the distant window, “it’s not our only hope.”

Merlin looked at him with an expression the other man couldn’t quite place.

“You’re mad. Tell me exactly how things could be worse than they are right now.”

“Well, there could be wildrens!”, he said, jokingly. The younger man chuckled.

“Yes, there could be wildrens.” He smiled.

Merlin sighed, then started walking toward the other side of the “room”, even though there wasn’t any light there. Well, to be fair, there wasn’t any light anywhere. Arthur followed him, the mood somehow less somber than before. Maybe it was better this way, with Merlin leading the way, because then Arthur would know for sure that he wasn’t too far. So they wouldn’t get lost. Because, well, just because. He didn’t want to get another servant is all. They were about to enter another one of the narrower stretches when Merlin slipped. 

He didn’t just slip, though, as Arthur first thought, so when Arthur tried to steady the other man by holding him still and keep walking forward, all he did was push Merlin harder in the direction of a large hole in the ground. The other gasped, then sucked a breath in as they fell. There wasn’t time for either to scream – the fall was short and fast –, and they hit the ground with a deafening sound. 

Arthur made impact with some amount of force, but noticed almost immediately that it was because he’d fallen into some sort of small lake, somewhere the water ran deeper. He started flailing around for the surface, God, he’d sunken in quite a bit. His lungs were pleading for air, and when he finally reached it, he forcibly coughed some water out of himself. Almost with it, the word “Merlin,” he shouted so often in the mornings. 

Then, “MERLIN,” as he grew desperate. He wasn’t sure, but he’d wager a guess that his manservant, who’d grown up in a small farming village, couldn’t swim. Panic grew in his chest. His already tired legs kept on flailing, keeping him over water. 

His foot hit a rock from the side, and beside the pain, he latched onto it, pulling his way ashore, and realized that this lower level wasn’t really a small lake. He’d fallen into a hole inside of the hole, by some miracle, and it was filled with water. He laid face up in the driest spot, up the rock, and heavily breathed, trying to get his breathing back to normal. Then, he screamed Merlin’s name once more toward the dark, only illuminated by the small sliver of light that shone from that blasted window up there and flitted into the crater weakly. The light had been dimming anyway. 

Finally, Arthur heard a groan by his side and his chest emptied of its heavy weight, relief flooding it instead. 

“Merlin!”

Of course, then it was again brought down by worry. 

“Please let him have hit water like me, please have him have hit water, please…” He begged in his mind, throwing away all precedents of pride.

“… Merlin?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi! It's me again. Hope you're enjoying what you're reading... as always, I accept criticism, please comment with your thoughts, wants, fears, whatevers, and don't be shy to let me know if any grammar is wrong. Anyway, I'll try to update as fast as possible :) Byee!


	3. Dark

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Merlin's injured, Arthur's concerned and they're both emotionally constipated.

Merlin heard Arthur’s voice as if through a very thick fog, shouting his name in worry. His world shifted slightly as he opened his eyes only to find too little light to see anything at all. 

Half of his body was immersed in freezing water, and half was warm, too warm… He didn’t know how it was possible for the world to be spinning when it was all pitch black, but it was. And there wasn’t anything for him to grab onto, not even a color or a sound (Arthur voice kept coming back, though, but it wavered distantly, not enough). 

He felt himself starting to panic, which was at least something he could feel solidly, until he felt a hand reach his leg, then grab onto it almost delicately. It brushed over his thigh and side until it reached his face. It was warm, and then suddenly wet.

“Oh, no…” He heard Arthur, much closer than before, mutter.

He felt Arthur’s hands gently prop him up, his head laying on the other’s chest, and he suddenly felt very embarrassed for some reason. It might’ve been the solidity of Arthur’s broadness and the proximity of that beautiful man to himself. He rid himself of the thought. 

“Merlin, talk to me, you bloody idiot!” He thought he heard some panic in Arthur’s voice. He’d gotten pretty good at reading the other over the years…

“Yes, hello?” He answered, trying to sneak some of his usual snarky ness in and soothe the King a bit. 

He wasn’t successful.

“You damn fool, you’re bleeding,” Arthur said angrily. “Did you hit the rocks when you fell?”

“Why is it that you're always blaming me for everything?”

Arthur adjusted him in his lap, trying to get a sense of how hurt Merlin was and where. There was blood all over his torso, and it was apparently coming from his shoulder, judging by how the servant yelped when it was touched. 

A blinding pain took hold of Merlin suddenly after that, him finally taking notice of his injured shoulder. It felt like it was on fire, and it got worse whenever he so much as breathed, his bones rubbing against each other and breaching his very skin. He could practically feel the blood spurting from the wound.

He hadn’t even realized, but he had let out an incredible scream of pain, and his legs were wildly slashing the water as he flailed. Arthur was trying to hold him still, whispering in a panicked voice: 

“It’s okay, calm down, Merlin, it’s okay…”

“M-Ah!-My sh-shoulder,” Merlin muttered back, desperately trying to get Arthur to understand the situation and help him.  


He felt hands return to his shoulder, and he screamed once more. The hands remained there, and for a few agonizing moments Arthur dug around his shoulder trying to somehow – push the bone back in, fix it, do something!

Merlin briefly lost consciousness, feeling completely out of his body, and when he came to, the pain had faded away, pulsating, muffled by a piece of cloth tightly wrapped around his torso and shoulder.

It was colder, and somehow darker than before. His legs weren’t inside the water anymore, and his mind detachedly provided that that was a good thing, there was a smaller chance that he’d get hypothermia that way. He was laying on a warm body, though, and a hand was gently combing through his hair, which must’ve been caked with his blood.

He shifted silently. The hand left.

“Arthur?” 

“Hello… you seemed to have thought that this moment would be great for a nap. Lazy sod,” he said, and Merlin scoffed.

A wave of lucidity hit him, probably from a sudden burst of adrenaline that came from the thought: 

“The knights! Do you think they’re still around the forest? Or that they’ll come looking? Maybe they’re here, lost too? Or they’ve been captured, I – ”

“Calm down, Merlin! Didn’t know you cared that much for them. I thought to you they were ‘thick’,” he joked, even as a pang of jealousy plagued his chest.

Of course, he was worried too. He just wondered if Merlin would be thinking of him if one of the other knights was with him at the moment. Well, he was the King, so, probably yes, but…

“Maybe they’re looking for us. There’s no way that we can know for sure.”

Silence followed, that much more encompassing in the dark. 

“So we’ll have to wait for you to get better, then get out of this cave.”

“Then the bigger, surrounding cave. Yes, that’ll be easy,” Merlin half-coughed. 

Later, they adjusted themselves so that they could use the wall for support, but Arthur didn’t remove his arms from around Merlin, nor did the smaller one complain or question him. It was cold. Merlin’s torso was exposed except for the makeshift bandage and his scarf, and they were both very tired. 

They were also scared. They only had their water skins, blessedly nearly full, and the clothes on their backs. Neither said anything, though. Both knew how the other felt. 

They didn’t sleep, however they tried. Arthur tried breathing slowly so as to not alarm Merlin with his wakefulness, but still watch over him if his injury started to act up, and Merlin drowsily tried to figure out how his magic could be of use, especially since he couldn’t use it in front of Arthur. The dark might help him hide it, but how would he explain it to Arthur? And without any distractions, how was he supposed to say the spell out loud without Arthur noticing? And what spell was he to use?

It seemed both knew the other was awake, but couldn’t (by some force of nature) reach the other.


	4. Arthur

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arthur's not so okay around caves, and he opens up to his frien- I mean servant.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry, this time it took me a while... surprisingly, my school is still going at it with overworking the students. Have a good read!

“Arthur?” 

He didn’t know why he was so affected by that cave. Apart from the impossibility of getting out. But he had already been through training for that with his father, he was already unbeatable. He had to breathe in and get through it. There was no time to freak out, no time to be a scared little coward.

“Are you okay?” Merlin’s voice rang out, small.

“Of course I am, Merlin, I’m not a scared girl like you,” his voice said confidently. He had had practice.

“You’re shaking.”

“I’m cold.”

“You know I can always tell when you’re lying.”

Arthur swallowed dryly. Merlin tried to shift so as to face him, but his shoulder was jolted in the process and he bit down a yelp of pain.

“You know you can tell me anything. Is this about your knight training?”

Merlin’s eyes seemed to seep right into his soul, even as Arthur could not see them. How did the bastard always know? 

“Every time the knights complain about training, you just stare ahead and say something cryptic about how little they’ve seen.” At first Merlin though it was just the King arrogantly putting himself as their superior, but Arthur had changed, and Merlin had started to see his vulnerable side. He knew that wasn’t it. 

“Shut up, Merlin,” his voice wavered pathetically. 

“Come on, Arthur. It’s me! Who am I going to tell?”

“Fair. You are simply a buffoon, so… no harm in telling you.”

They sat in silence for a little bit, Arthur’s breathing accelerated. Merlin placed his uninjured arm’s hand cautiously on the other man’s chest. He knew that falling into the ease of their usual banter would help Arthur to settle down… it usually did. And it was a great way of calming himself too. He knew the King, well, his friend, needed him in that moment, even if the other didn’t.

“Well, it’s just that part of my knight training took place in a cave like this one. My father thought that these kind of survival skills might help me. So, he took me to the underground tunnels in Camelot and…” he paused, swallowing thickly. “Left me there for the night.”

Merlin’s hand twitched. He had already harbored strong feelings for Uther Pendragon, but he hated the way Arthur’s voice sounded just then so deeply that he might’ve designed a plan in his head to assassinate the man so that he was dead twice over. Just out of sheer anger, impulsively. He wouldn’t do that to Arthur.

“I was smaller then, barely thirteen summers, and it really scared me. I avoid caves now best I can, but they’re really useful in battles, so we’re around them all the time. I haven’t spent the night in one after that, though. Before all this.”

Merlin was silent for a few seconds, not sure how to respond. Arthur’s head was tilted upwards from what the warlock could feel. Perhaps he was looking at the opening on the cave’s “ceiling”. 

“He heard me… screaming, scared. And he just responded by telling me to shut up and act like a man.” Arthur’s jaw set. “To never be a coward. Lest I not be his son…”

“You do know you aren’t, don’t you? You’re one of the bravest men I ever met,” Merlin said truthfully. 

Arthur’s head shifted toward Merlin’s, which was perched on the King’s shoulder for support. Merlin couldn’t see his eyes, but he was pretty sure Arthur was close to tears, and felt the other’s nose gently being buried in his hair. 

“Merlin…” was all he said. 

“Oh no, are you going to become arrogant after this? I really should’ve minded my tongue…” said the servant, with his usual playfulness. 

“…shut up.”

They sat in a kind of silence much better than the last, and together watched the first rays of sun enter the cave almost horizontally, and it wasn’t so cold anymore. Their heads were tucked in together at that point, and both of them fell asleep for a couple of hours, exhausted and warm in each other’s embrace. 

Merlin’s eyes were the first ones to flitter open, and all he could think of was that he had to get them both out of that cave before things got too serious… They didn’t have any food, and their water supply was slowly but steadily diminishing. 

Now, with Arthur asleep, was when he could act.

Trying his best to remain very still, he looked up at the first level of…cave and muttered, as silently as he could, the breaking spell he’d known pretty much his whole life at that point. He’d been around Gaius so long it felt like he was an old man already.

Strangely, the stone remained just as steady as it had seemed moments ago. Merlin tried again, a little louder. He could feel his magic at work, so why wasn’t it working? Merlin tried a simpler spell on the water, but it remained placid. 

He started to feel panic rise in his chest. Maybe Morgana was really the one behind their whole ordeal. The cave could be magical. His eyes drifted upward and his nose reached Arthur’s stubble. He adjusted himself. The man slept peacefully. He was fucked. 

Without his magic, how were they going to get out? The knights would never find them… and they’d run out of water and starve before his shoulder was well enough for them to try to make a miraculous escape or something.

A few words hit him like a pile of rocks. Arthur could make it out without him. 

Merlin’s hand gripped Arthur’s shirt where he was resting it beforehand. It might be the only way. He had to play his cards exactly right to get Arthur to leave without him, though. It may even be easier than he was thinking, though, as the other man was often near-sighted when it came to him, and somewhat dismissing. 

It could come to his advantage, though.

Arthur stirred in his sleep, and Merlin's heart jolted a little bit. He was a little scared, but he had no time to worry, no time to fuss. It had to be done.


	5. Why, Merlin?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arthur must leave without him. It's the only logical solution.

“You have to leave.”

Arthur groggily replied with “Yes, of course we do, you idiot, what have you been thinking up to now?” before he rubbed his eyes open and regained most of his usual alertness.

“No. You have to leave without me.”

Arthur shifted drastically, sitting upright and looking at Merlin, who had untangled himself from the other man and was laying stomach-up on the cold floor, looking at the few rays of sunlight that had, mere hours ago, seemed like a miracle in themselves. 

“What nonsense are you spewing now?” Arthur said while he stood up and stretched himself, walking over to the pseudo-lake and washing his face and arms. 

Merlin didn’t answer him right away, trying to sit up rather pathetically, also craving some water to the face, and in his body. There was a lot of dried up blood around his arm and chest. He also had to check to see if it was infected already. 

He knew that showing Arthur his wounds would only bind the man tighter to him, but he needed it to be done before the other left, so he’d at least have some time to figure out what had happened to his magic. 

“Hey, can you…” he started shyly. 

Arthur looked at him over his shoulder, water dripping from his handsome face and big shoulders. Oh God, he was attractive. He must be, you know, to the princesses that came to visit. To Gwen. Yes. That. Merlin felt his face flush.

“Oh. I’ll help you, come on, sit up.”

Arthur sneaked a hand around him, settling on his shoulder blades, and helped him towards the “lake”. So gently that Merlin was a little embarrassed. He cleaned Merlin’s face without direct eye contact and carefully removed the bandages. The younger man hissed at the jolting. 

“Sorry.”

“It’s okay.”

The wounds were mostly closed, but the fresh blood had stuck to Merlin’s shirt-bandage and pulling it apart almost had the servant shedding tears again. 

The dried blood had gone a little black, and the wound looked to be in early stages of infection. Arthur tried to keep his face neutral, but he was a little shaken up by how bad it looked.

Unfortunately for him, Merlin was well-versed in his expressions, and had seen this particular one whenever Arthur thought they were outmatched during battle. He was also the assistant physician, so he knew it looked bad. He took a deep breath. 

Maybe he could use the injury to his favor. 

“Arthur…” his voice was shaky. “You have to go. You know that.”

The man in question’s hands kept working on Merlin’s bandage, carefully releasing it and messily cleaning it in the cold water near them. 

“Shut up, Merlin,” he said nonchalantly. 

The warlock hissed again at the sudden pain of cold water on his open shoulder. 

“You know you can get out of here if you’re not burdened by me. And the people need you! You’re the King. Gwen…”

Arthur’s hands stopped just short of Merlin’s arm. He was angry. 

“Stop that right now! Since when have you ever seen me as what the people need?” He said, brow furrowed. “And even so, they have Guinevere in my absence.”

“Arthur, you know what I mean, dollop-head. They need their King. The knights, Camelot!”

But the King hadn’t finished:

“And besides, the people need you as well.”

There was a moment of silence. Arthur continued cleaning the wound, and reapplied the bandages methodically, as all of them had learned to do way too often.

“…How exactly do the people need me?”

Arthur’s eyes met Merlin’s. 

“What is the life of a servant next to that of a King?”

“That’s bullshit, Merlin, and you know it.”

The bandages were done. They kept sitting like that, Merlin facing Arthur, their legs all but tangled together. Arthur’s hand on Merlin’s back, keeping him upright. 

Arthur’s hand hesitantly came up to touch Merlin’s neck and ear, and he asked, very quietly:

“What made you think that you’re not important to the people?”

They were very close to each other, and Arthur could feel Merlin’s breath on his skin. The other man looked downwards, eyes stubbornly not meeting Arthur’s. 

“No, it’s just that, politically, you’re very… essential… as the King, and I’m… not,” his voice cracked.

“Tell me. Because, guess what? You’re important to me.”

Merlin breathed hard, still looking away from the man holding him. Arthur didn’t mention that the people needed him because he was kind, a physician, a man who did good because it was good, a generous spirit. All he could think of was how he’d feel if he were to wake up and his favorite person – well, second to Gwen… of course – was missing. 

Or if he’d left him behind deliberately. He wouldn’t be able to look at himself in the mirror again. Or dress himself up, for that matter. 

“There is a reason why I left Ealdor.”

They moved a bit so as to sit comfortably, Arthur’s hands still around Merlin, unbeknownst to him holding the man together. 

“I’m here.”

And after the night before, Arthur felt like he somewhat owed to Merlin to listen to his woes. And part of him, maybe all of him, wanted and needed to know. Because he, well, because Merlin was his friend. One of his men. 

The words almost left Merlin’s lips: I have magic. He knew they’d drive Arthur away, into safety, back to the earth where his father hadn’t locked him and ignored his pleas for help.   
He was selfish for doing it, he knew, but he didn’t say the words. 

He couldn’t erase Arthur’s expression when he told Merlin that he was important from his mind. 

“Thank you… I just – I don’t think I want to talk about that with you,” he swallowed. “Sire.”

It hurt worse than Arthur’s hand digging around in his shoulder, this lie. He’d said no to a hand he’d been waiting for from the other man for years. The words felt like lead on his lips.

The King’s eyes showed confusion, and he let go of Merlin’s face. They sat at the edge of the lake side by side, and rested on the tall rocks around them, feet inside the water. 

“I understand.”


	6. Back to back

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Will Merlin open up after all?

“Why did you lie?”

Arthur’s voice rung out, echoing in the walls of the cave. Merlin had been laying by the rocks, staring at the damning ceiling silently. Arthur had been by their things (well, the few things they had, considering they had left camp without much, the blonde even leaving his armor behind), near the stretch of wall where they had slept quite uncomfortably, half sitting, half laying down. 

He was just staring at his sword, twisting it in his hands, thinking. 

“What?” Merlin’s voice replied eloquently, as if he were caught off guard, having just awoken from sleep or been wrenched from deep thought.

“I know you, Merlin, and you forget I’m not as big a – dollop head– as you think.” Merlin tilted his head back so as to look at the other man. 

“Really?” He asked, sarcastically.

“Yes.” Arthur answered pointedly. “I know you have a secret. I know Lancelot knows it too.”

He met Merlin’s eyes, which were wide in fear. The whole situation was made worse by the fact that he couldn’t really sit up, so he was stuck laying on the ground while Arthur loomed over him. The man in question swallowed thickly.

“I know that you’re a sorcerer.”

There was a brief moment of complete stillness. The water was quiet, Merlin’s heart ceased to beat, neither blinked or moved an inch while they kept their eyes locked, Merlin’s in despair and Arthur’s completely out of the other’s reach. 

Then, Arthur turned his head around and kept turning his sword over in his hands. 

“You give me way too little credit, Merlin. How could I have killed the Great Dragon while unconscious and his body have vanished?” He walked around the small rocky ground where they presently lived. “That was what gave me the first clue. Then everything else. Every single thing. Fell into place.”

Arthur abruptly turned back to Merlin, sword swishing around, and Merlin was only sadder than he was scared. His heart was beating out of his chest and there were tears teetering on the edges of his eyes.

“And I couldn’t even be mad at you!” Arthur yelled, seemingly having a very cathartic moment. “Because you used it to save my life, I know it, I’ve seen it. And so many times I thought you lied, but you’d been telling the truth. You do brush with death often, you’re not in the fucking tavern.”

Arthur was swinging around his sword at that point, yelling so hard his neck veins popped out of his skin. 

“How could you do this to me? Devote your life to me, make yourself my friend, and lie about your very nature? Deceive me?”

“Arthur…”

“No!” A moment. “I trust you more than anyone but perhaps Guinevere. I just. I wish you hadn’t hidden. I wish you had trusted me as well, told me. You almost broke my trust with you. Almost.”

He stared at the ground, back turned to the laying man. 

Merlin remembered the months he’d spent trying to understand what was wrong with Arthur, why they weren’t having their usual banter and late night conversations, what his cold shoulder and harsh words meant. The tension that filled the air, the strange and sudden suspicion that had Merlin retiring to his room at night wondering what he had done wrong and how he could fix it. If there was a way to fix it. If Arthur had just reverted back to the person he had been when they'd met. In the end, when it had all passed, Merlin had just written it off, because he was just glad it was over. That had been maybe a year or more ago… 

“I just…” Arthur’s voice was filled with tears, wet somehow. “You and your damn clumsiness and terrible jokes and strange wisdom. You matter to me too much for me to let this get between us.”

Merlin’s tears slowly made their way down the sides of his face. Even though magic had taken away both his parents, his sister, and caused him so much pain, Arthur could overlook this part of him. And he'd kept it from him all those years, in the dark, afraid. Lied to him when Arthur's heart had been open and caring. 

“I’m sorry. I was afraid. Afraid of how you’d react, if you’d hate me, banish me… kill me.” His voice grew cloudy. “I didn’t want to put you in that position. And I have a destiny to fulfill. By your side. I… I was selfish.”

Arthur, who had been listening to Merlin’s voice growing smaller, sadder and pain-ridden, turned around and let the sword clatter on the ground. He fell to his knees and let his face stay right over Merlin’s. 

“If learning your secret has taught me anything is that you are not selfish. I hadn’t thought that before, but, having that power and staying by my side, being my servant, following me into battle, even being a physician. You are the most selfless man I know, Merlin.”

They stared at each other, Arthur’s hand nearly straying towards Merlin’s tear-streaked cheeks. When the man spoke, his voice was full of emotion.

“Thank you.”

An indescribable weight had just left Merlin. He felt like he could fly. Until Arthur’s next words. 

“So. Can you get us out of here with your, you know. Magic?”

“I couldn’t. I – I think Morgana has something to do with this cave. My powers don’t work in here.”

Arthur nodded, seemingly trying to formulate a new plan in his mind. He looked up to the opening on top of the cave and frowned. 

“Well fuck.”

He sat down next to where Merlin lay, his back finding support on the rock right next to them. 

After they spent a while in silence, both processing what had just happened, Merlin spoke, his voice cracking.

“Well, so, if you know that magic isn’t evil, why is it still banned and well, you know, punishable by death?”

Arthur inhaled sharply and set his jaw.

“I’m sorry, you don’t have to answer that, I’–“

“No, you’re right. I should legalize it. I just… Well, I think that deep down I still hold a lot against magic. My mother, then… my father. Morgana. I just need some time. But it will happen.” Arthur let out a strange, pointed laugh. “Lancelot keeps glaring at me whenever the subject comes up. He’s the one who tried to explain it to me. He said magic was like a sword, and those can be used for whatever purpose, good or evil.”

Arthur’s hand touched Merlin’s uninjured shoulder and lay there comfortingly. 

“And I think maybe the reason all these people have gone bad is exactly because magic is treated this way. It’s wrong. I have to change it.”

“You’re such a good King.”

Arthur smiled. 

“You made me this way.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey y'all, 'tis the author, remember you can always leave feedback, requests and etcetera on the comments and tell me if you like my work so far! Sorry I took so long with this one, I had a terrible case of writer's block. Love, Moi.


	7. To the Waters

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Merlin tells Arthur why he left Ealdor... but is it the whole story?

The silence they then stewed in wasn’t tense, but it was definitely charged. After Arthur had gone on that verbal rampage, swinging his sword around like a madman, and telling Merlin he’d known his deepest, most well-kept secret, for a long time and didn’t condemn him for it, both men could use a breather. 

As night approached, though, and it got colder, they had to huddle together for warmth. Merlin’s shoulder burned, and he had assisted Gaius as the court physician enough times to know that that meant the wound was infected. He didn’t say anything, though.

Fact is, he was a little disappointed that he couldn’t show off his magic to Arthur and get them out of that cave. Maybe just so the other man could see that he wasn’t helpless. Maybe because he was really starting to think that a damn cave was going to be the end of Arthur Pendragon.

With his head on the taller man’s shoulder, who was then staring at the water, mirroring the last bit of light they’d get for hours, Merlin was shocked to hear the other’s firm voice echoing through the cave.

“Are you really not comfortable telling me what happened back in Ealdor?”

Merlin was caught off-guard, and it took him a beat of silence to understand his own feelings.

“It has to do with magic…but other things as well.” He deliberately avoided Arthur’s eyes. “I just haven’t really thought about it since I left, but I’ll tell you.”

When the words left his lips, he was still surprised by his own decision and ease. He never thought he’d share this story with anyone. He raised his head and cleared his throat, while Arthur urged him on with gentle eyes.

“So, Ealdor is really small. There were really only a handful of children around when we were growing up, and I was the youngest of all of them for a long time. So, well, most of the boys messed around with me. Not in the fun way.” Merlin chuckled. “They thought I was weird, and they didn’t like that ‘unexplainable things’ happened around me. So I didn’t have that many friends until Will came ‘round, and that was only when I was a little older.”

The sorcerer paused briefly, and Arthur waited patiently.

“Most of them pushed me around, called me names… Actually all of them. Except Daniel. Daniel was kind, he’d come and give me apples on the worst days of the year, when food was scarce and most of us were hungry. Sometimes he even took me down to the river to calm me down after the boys had given me a beating.”

He let out a shaky breath. Arthur’s brow furrowed slightly.

Merlin looked at the rocky ground.

“I thought he liked me back, you know. I loved him. Daniel was the only person I felt I could really trust. One day, when I was maybe twelve summers, there was a particularly long winter and the village was mostly hungry. That always made the boys act more vicious,” Merlin spat. “They beat me up really badly, and I was angry.”

Tears fell from Merlin’s eyes at a leisurely pace.

“Daniel was surprised, I was usually just sad and quiet, I know, but I was so angry this time. They had said my father had left because he didn’t love me and my mother would leave me too if she could. That I was useless, helpless.” Arthur’s fists were clenched. “So I leashed out and I hurt him… He fell into the icy river. He saw I had magic.”

Merlin chocked down a sob.

“He fell ill. And only days later, he died. He could’ve told anyone that I had magic, that I really was a freak. He didn’t, though. But… he didn’t let me see him before he passed.”

Merlin sobbed, and Arthur was angry.

“I didn’t mean to do that to him. I loved him!”

Arthur was silent. He felt something strange churning in his stomach, but pushed it down.

“Merlin… you’re not a freak. And…”

Arthur choked on his own words. He seemed unsure of what to say, or couldn’t find it in him to say the words he found. So he just pulled Merlin’s shaking body closer to him and held him, of course, being careful with his arm.

No words could have gotten to that same place. Huddled like that, they fell asleep as the moonlight filled the cave. 

Inside the crooked passageways of the cave, echoed menacing and slow steps, as if a person were taking a midnight stroll around the borderline hellish pit. The person’s feet hit the water without getting wet as they approached the “clearing” where lied the whole that had sucked Merlin and Arthur in.

They walked straight to it and peered inside. It had worked. 

The men were laying against each other in a way they’d find endearing if it wasn’t so sickening. If they were in a different time or if the things she’d heard weren’t as they were. 

She would wait. It would be most beneficial if she were to strike at a moment of peak vulnerability (she had a feeling that it wasn’t very far away). One of them seemed injured, and that brought a smile to her lips. She could feel the despair filling her lungs, and rejoiced in it.

Perhaps arrogantly, she strutted around the hole victorious, her enemy at her – no – beneath her feet. 

Arthur’s eyelids twitched as he heard a shift in the steady dripping toward the small lake around them. Footsteps. Too light to be the knights’. Too few. 

It was true that since Merlin had told him he was powerless to better their situation, panic had been setting in at a faster pace, but it was in that moment that he truly understood in how deep the waters they were in could go. It had to be Morgana. They’d heard her mention among the lips of the bandits that had chased them into the godforsaken place. 

Though he dared not open his eyes, he solemnly promised to protect Merlin no matter what. He could do it. He’d held out that long with the constant reminders of his voluntary (?) imprisonment at the hands of his father. He could fight. For Merlin. Also for himself, of course, the King. Not just a servant. Not just his… best friend.

His hands tightened around the younger’s shoulder.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry it took me this long, school has been a nightmare. Thank you so much to the people who left comments, they were so kind, and it really helps to know that people are enjoying it so that I have the will to write more. Special shoutout to Clara, my friend who helped me out of writer's block!


	8. Companion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arthur and Merlin talk some more, and the King learns more about his servant's love life. To his.... displeasure?

Hunger was getting harder to ignore. 

The night was creeping closer and they were suffering with the cold. Merlin’s lips were turning a blue-ish color and he felt that soon he’d have to voice the burning pain surrounding his infected wound. 

Despair was now beating strongly in their hearts, and every moment without a solution was one moment closer to madness. 

At this point, they had to keep talking to maintain their heads from completely withering away. Arthur was in the middle of a story about his first day directing the knights, when he drifted off and started talking about how he’d love to enjoy a night out in the tavern after this whole debacle.

Merlin’s curiosity got the best of him, and it ended up slipping out:

“Have you ever engaged on the lest proper activities at the tavern?”

Arthur threw his head back and laughed, a familiar gesture that Merlin just noticed he was incredibly fond of.

“Merlin, I am the King. Of course,” he looked sideways at Merlin, “that I have participated in the less propped activities in the tavern.” His eyes then widened in realization. “Have you?”

Merlin didn’t know why, but his cheeks instantly flared up in red. 

“Wh–I–surely a servant’s–Well–I…have.”

Arthur kept on laughing throughout Merlin’s whole attempt at speaking like a common human being and his heart felt free for a moment. Free in a way that it hadn’t felt since he’d been crowned King. He actually only remembered feeling that way around Merlin. Maybe with Gwen… but even then there’d been the whole pressure of getting her to like him. With Merlin, he just felt like he didn’t have to try so hard all the time.

As soon as the laughter died down, though, Arthur’s heart suffered a pang of affection for the blushing, large-eared man. He smiled, and an urge gripped him tightly, an urge to hold the man close. He ignored it.

“Well, I must hear of this.”

“You never will, I promise.”

“Come on!” Arthur prodded. 

“It’s actually not a great story… It’s the actual reason why I left Ealdor.”

Arthur sobered up quickly, straightening his back against Merlin’s own. The other’s head was leaning on his shoulder, and he could tell by his voice that this subject was dangerously close to sobbing territory. So he proceeded with caution.

“Do you want to tell me? I can just go back to talking about the times I’ve stolen things from the cook without her noticing as a child…”

Merlin smiled affectionately and let out a light chuckle. 

“I think she just let you think that because you were the King’s son.” Arthur mumbled a half-hearted ‘hey!’ like he was about to remind Merlin for the millionth time that he was the King and should not be spoken to in that way. “Besides, it’s not that sad a story. It led to me meeting you.”

A strange but meaningful silence followed. Arthur hummed.

“Yes, this is what I have to thank to getting you as miserable excuse for a servant.”

An amused silence followed. Both felt the strain of their conditions very heavily.

“Well, you know about Will, the man who used to be my best friend.” Sadness laced his words at the memory of his dead companion. “Oh, he’s actually not a sorcerer, he was only trying to protect me that time…”

“I figured,” said Arthur, listening to Merlin’s pleasant but strained (probably from the pain of his worsening injury) voice while his head tilted toward the ceiling, eyes closed. 

“Well, when he first moved to Ealdor, he took an instant dislike to the people our age. But his house was next to mine, and we worked long hours of the day side-by-side, his father having abandoned him as a child as had mine. And we grew to have a nice friendship. We started spending our days together even when we weren’t working and because, well, I don’t actually know… I have a talent for falling in love with my best friends…” 

Silence followed as Merlin stopped talking to breathe. Arthur furrowed his brow in worry. He better clean the wound again, but at this point he wasn’t sure uncovering it only to put back the same dirty cloth (teared off of the other man's own shirt) was going to help much.

“Yes, I fell in love with Will. We started growing closer, and he started taking me out to the tavern nearest to out village. It took maybe an afternoon walking, but the fun we had made it worth every second. One day, the same boys who used to push me around cornered Will… but they didn’t hit him. I think they just wanted to make me suffer. So they told him I was unnatural, that one day I – I had gone off with Daniel and he never came back, and that he should be careful.”

Arthur turned his head to the side and his eyelashes touched Merlin’s neck. Merlin wasn’t smiling, but his eyes were dry. He just looked melancholic. Like an old man talking about his youth. It wasn’t fair.

“Will didn’t care, though. And when we were drinking and he told me what had happened, I loosened my tongue and told him the whole story. He didn’t seem to care. Said I was a right enough lad, and put his arm around me. That’s when I knew that the kind of love I had for him wasn’t just something I’d be able to shove to the back of my head.”

Again, an ugly feeling churned on Arthur’s empty stomach.

“I eventually told him I had magic. He came from deeper into Essetir, so he mostly thought it was really cool, but he still kept quiet. We were great friends for many years like so, but I never completely erased from my heart the pain of loving him and not being loved back. Whenever we’d go out, he’d sleep with random women and I’d pretend to be okay, when actually nothing in the world was as hard as ignoring it. Because he'd leave me alone then, I'd find some 'company'. That’s why I left.”

Arthur had been enthralled in the story, and when Merlin finally stopped talking, throat scratchy as the water had gone earlier that same day, he immediately jumped in:

“You never told him you loved him?”

“No.”

A beat of silence while Arthur did something he rarely did: measured his words.

“Do you regret it?”

There was no response. 

That night, while Merlin slept perched on the blonde’s shoulder, Arthur racked his brain to understand why it was he couldn’t shut his eyes and sleep. 

Okay, so maybe it bothered him that he wasn’t Merlin’s first best friend. Not that he hadn’t had any friends before Merlin, it’s just that with them it had never been quite the same. They understood each other and he was comfortable around Merlin in a way he’d never been with anyone else. Including Guinevere. 

But when Merlin described his relationships with Daniel and Will he felt…there was no other way to put it: 

Jealous.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey-o! Thank you for all the positive feedback I've been getting, I'm happy you like the pic! Now that school is a little lighter, I'll try to post more often! Bye honey-bees <3


	9. Two Men

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They're idiots, basically.

Maybe he was jealous that Merlin had felt comfortable enough to tell his past best friends that he had magic, but not Arthur. Though the circumstances were different, him being royalty and all.

Maybe he was jealous that Merlin himself had a romantic past, while he’d had to stay confined to the castle in his youth, and almost never got to have some ‘adult fun’ with the visiting princes and princesses. But that also didn’t feel right. 

It was almost glaringly obvious at this point, even though Arthur was masterfully attempting to dodge the fact that he held some feelings for Merlin. The only thing that the stories had in common was the love that Merlin shared with these other men. 

And it hurt Arthur, this realization. Because he had created a life with Guinevere, he loved her, in a sense. And all this time he could’ve shared with Merlin was lost. Maybe he was, indeed, a dollop-head. 

Looking back on their shared time, he felt like a complete buffoon. He’d always loved to share a laugh with Merlin more than with anyone else, worried over the man like he’d never worried before, cared more than he’d dare to admit. Merlin had always had his preferred words of wisdom and his presence was, to Arthur, almost second nature. 

He looked at Merlin’s pretty lips, and cheekbones and closed eyes that held light blue and wondered how he’d missed such an obvious feeling. 

He almost jumped out of his own skin when Merlin suddenly opened his own eyes. 

His servant had the audacity to laugh.

“Rise and shine!” He coughed. 

Arthur smiled.

Merlin looked up at him and smiled as well, despite the circumstances. Yes, he was hurt, and he and Arthur were stuck in a hole without food or water. But at the very least it was morning, and the sunlight filled the cavernous pit. 

At this point, his mind almost felt numb to the constant feeling of hunger and desperation. It was as it had often been when he was a young lad, and so the new situation sometimes felt like a memory repeating itself in his mind, again and again. 

Although Arthur showed amusement at Merlin’s antics, as he always did, whether he think secretly or not, the servant could see in his eyes a certain gauntness that was very rarely present. It bothered him.

As a matter of fact, since the previous night, Merlin had been feeling a little bothered. 

There was a secret that he himself had been only too eager to bury, and one so well hidden in the labyrinth of his mind that he’d lost the ability to find it as the days wore on.

A secret, like his magic, he’d tried to ignore out of fear, denial and particularly heartbreak. It wasn’t even a secret, he’d tried to tell himself years ago, because it wasn’t true. He’d move on from it. Like he’d done with Daniel, and after that Will. 

It was harder than he anticipated, though, especially when Arthur wasn’t insulting him, giving him too many chores and throwing things at his head, but smiling at him gently and holding him in the man’s muscular Knight of Camelot arms.

Arthur had gotten up, and was running his hands through the water pensively, presumably to see if it was too cold for whatever he was planning or perhaps potable. They’d have to drink it sooner or later anyway, as their throats were already dry enough as it was, and they had no prospect of leaving their makeshift prison anytime soon. 

“Maybe there’s an underwater exit…” Arthur wondered aloud.

Merlin stared at him wide-eyed. How had they not thought of that possibility sooner? Maybe, he rationalized, it was because, if this was indeed a trap set by Morgana, it was extremely unlikely there was any way out at all. But that didn’t mean it was futile to try.

“Maybe… We’d have to go in the water to find out, though. How cold is it?”

Arthur looked over his shoulder to Merlin, who wasn’t looking too well, deep dark bags under his eyes and a sickly glint of sweat throughout his skin. His injured arm lay limp over his lap, and even though he hadn’t said a thing, Arthur could see he was in pain. 

“Not too cold,” the words left without his consent.

Merlin tilted his head to the side.

“You can’t lie to me, Arthur,” he said indignantly. 

“Okay, it’s a little cold.”

Merlin furrowed his brow.

“Okay, it’s very cold!” Arthur exclaimed. “But…I fear we won’t last much longer if we just stand by.”

Although unsaid, both knew that by “we”, Arthur really meant to say “you”.

“I agree,” Merlin said, surprising Arthur, who then began to shed his clothing immediately. “No, stop. I’ll go in.”

Arthur froze, his chest almost completely bare. His arms fell to his sides exasperatedly. He then continued to take his clothes off. Merlin rose with great effort and put a hand in his arm, which was so beautifully muscular he might've been momentarily distracted. That chest...

“You can’t even manage to take your clothes off without me, sire. Come on.”

“Stop joking! This is serious, Merlin, you’re injured!”

Merlin sobered, surprised by the outburst. They weren’t exactly known for acting serious in serious situations. 

“Arthur, we can’t risk both of us being sick! We won’t be able to get out of here with me anyway! We have to think here!”

Arthur’s gaze penetrated his own eyes, intensely, then defeated.

“You’ll make it out of here,” he said strongly. 

Merlin just looked at him blankly in response. 

“Let me go.”

Arthur looked at the ground in thought.

“I was thinking about the love you felt for Will. You never said anything to him out of fear of losing him. That’s such great a love.”

Merlin felt confused. He also stared at the ground.

“Have you ever felt that kind of love?”

Arthur only muttered, eyes flittering toward Merlin.

“Maybe. Yes.”

Merlin heard something in his mind, from deep within the burial ground of his love, clearly in a way he’d never experienced with The Great Dragon or the druids. He had to tell Arthur he loved him. He couldn’t let what happened between him and Will happen again. 

Without warning, Merlin jumped into the cold, cold waters and sunk…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey-o! Ignoring school completely at this point, watching Harry Potter and reading it at the same time and writing! Thanks for all the support!!


	10. Mo(u)rning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oblivious, oblivious idiots reflect upon their feelings for one another.

When Merlin came to, he heard Arthur’s voice faintly, hissing out a string of profanities, which turned into insults as he managed to open his own eyes.

“…idiot, buffoon, dim-witted little…”

A cold feeling was spread throughout his whole body, the kind that made it so he couldn’t feel any given part of himself if he didn’t concentrate in doing it. He closed his eyes again. 

His lips shivered in pushing out unwanted words to Arthur: “There’s no way… there’s no way out underwater.”

He could practically feel Arthur’s need for self-confirmation in the silence between his words being uttered and the blurry opening of his eyes. When he looked at the King’s face, though, all he saw was a silent grief (for themselves, he guessed). 

“Merlin, why? Why would you jump? Do you have a death wish?” He yelled. 

Your lips are blue! Arthur yelled in his own mind, along with about a million other things in his concern. Merlin’s eyes fluttered and closed. He was cold. 

“Merlin?”

“I’m just tired…”

Arthur didn’t know that much about the human body, especially about healing, so he wasn’t sure if he should stop Merlin from sleeping. All he knew was the crippling fear that took all of him mercilessly. Merlin’s lips were blue (bluer than they'd already been). Arthur was known as a fearless leader. That was what he was supposed to be, he was trained to face everything head-on and never falter. 

He didn’t know when he started to get scared with Merlin. Sure, his training had succeeded in making him completely unafraid to put himself in harm’s way for the “right causes”, but it had never prepared him for the fear that overtook him because of love, of friendship, of brotherhood. 

Merlin, Guinevere, the knights, they had all become too important to him at some point. And that had only happened after he’d met Merlin, his stupid servant and his stupid bleeding heart. He was supposed to be cold and calculating as the King. How was he supposed to rule when he cared so much for all around him? 

He had never thought he needed someone. He’d loved his father, but his death especially had proven that he had no need for that man. He needed love, and he thought he’d found it with Guinevere, but time and time again, his heart had drifted to Merlin whenever his loved ones were threatened. He had no need for friendship, he’d thought, even though having Merlin around had brought him closer to the knights…

He wanted the knights, his friends. He knew want. He wanted Guinevere in his life, a constant loving presence. He wanted his father, perhaps in a different way than he was willing to be. Not a guide for a prince, but an actual father.

He discovered that he needed and wanted Merlin gradually and painfully, like those feelings were a disease spreading over his entire being. Merlin was a terrible servant, but the camaraderie they shared eventually made him notice that he wanted Merlin around. The witty comments, the caring eyes and unwavering loyalty. This one friendship had expanded his whole being, introduced him to the amazing feeling of sharing their fun, with the knights, Guinevere an even Morgana, though that brought up too many painful memories.

He figured out he needed Merlin in a stranger yet way. Every time he was taken away or his life was threatened, Arthur felt a foreign pull that was too powerful to explain in words. It felt as if one of his limbs were being pulled out. He’d had trouble naming it, but after he figured out Merlin’s magic it had all come together. He didn’t just want Merlin, he needed him in order to be happy.

And so this fear he felt as he looked at Merlin’s fragile state scared him. Very much. 

Underneath his embrace, Merlin struggled to maintain consciousness, and was hurting in his heart. This was why he hadn’t permitted himself to acknowledge his feelings for Arthur, he’d known that thinking of the man like so would bring him to sacrifice himself too much, too often. It had already done so even unnamed.

He’d been scared before, most all his life, of hurting another he loved, rightly so with Will, who’d died for him, in his arms, in order to save his denied love. And Daniel, who’d died simply trying to help him. 

He wanted to keep Arthur safe with the very marrow of his bones, and it scared him that even in his deepest moments of denial, he’d die for Arthur in a heartbeat. 

When he opened his eyes, Arthur’s showed fear as well. Maybe not the same fear, the one that looked upon the grandness of their love, but one that felt to Merlin as if he were looking in a mirror. The Great Dragon had said they were two sides of the same coin after all.

Arthur saw the same in Merlin. 

Hovering above the younger man, he didn’t know what to say. He usually had to calculate his words very well among the prestigious politicians and his own people, but never with Merlin. He let the words slip out of their own accord.

“I care for you too much, Merlin.”

“So do I.”

A heartbeat passed between them and Arthur averted his eyes from Merlin’s ethereal blues. 

“I might’ve made a mistake. Marrying Guinevere. I love her… but I…”

Merlin hurt. He hurt all over and his ears rang. The love he’d felt all those years had somehow accumulated in his chest. 

“But?”

Arthur chuckled.

“Oh Lord, you are insufferable, Merlin, did you know that?”

Merlin swallowed his nervousness and smiled. 

“I – I love you more.”

The next few seconds for Arthur passed in what felt like years. Years of lying to himself, years of trying too hard to blind himself to this enormous feeling. Years of just enough of him, but not nearly enough. Years of doubt, fear, friendship, love, hurt, caring and bittersweet loyalty.

“You are an idiot,” Merlin smiled fondly, closing his eyes contently. 

Arthur laughed loudly in panic. 

“Merlin?”

“Shut up?”

“You guessed it.”

Not a second passed after he finished uttering the words and his lips met Merlin’s in the most familiar and yet unknown feeling Arthur had ever felt. It was like opening his eyes in the morning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Full circle! More chapters are to come, I promise, and I will focus more on their solid, objective problems. Hope you liked this one!


	11. Imprisoned

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They "leave" the cave...

Morgause was very irritated. She didn’t know why her associate had wanted to wait this long to act upon their initial plan.

“All will be well, sister. We just had to be patient. The boy is the key to Arthur. We had to wait so that he was injured enough for us to act.”

Morgause rolled her eyes. 

“How did you know he would be the injured one?” She spat out, half-curiously, half-maliciously.

“You still underestimate me, Morgause, I am a High Priestess,” she turned to her sister haughtily. “I can do whatever the fuck I want.”

The blonde woman swallowed all witty responses she could think to say before the power that the dark-haired one claimed, and just moved on.

“And now, Morgana? Is the boy finally injured enough?”

Morgana’s eyes lit up, without any magic at work, as she looked directly at her sister. 

“Yes. More than enough. I can feel his pain if I concentrate just so… It is time,” she let out an obnoxious laugh. “Because if we don’t act now, we might just be too late to threaten Arthur with his demise.”

Morgause smiled. 

All the pieces were on the chessboard. And they were winning.

Merlin and Arthur had been distracted from the cold by the warmth invading their hearts at the joining of their lips, the reciprocation of their tumbling feelings finally held by the object of their love.

Their hands, tight in each other’s, silently despaired as the destiny Merlin always thought they would share threatened to cut itself short. They saw no way out of their predicament, and the hunger intensified after the days they’d spent grew larger in number. They'd already succumbed to drinking from the lake they'd initially fallen into.

Merlin’s infection burned through his body and his arm almost felt as if it were a being separated from himself, as he could barely feel it. As a matter of fact, he had difficulty feeling any part of his body due to the chills that ran through it forcefully, numbed only by Arthur’s body encompassing his own. 

The blond man’s brow was constantly furrowed in worry, and he almost started hoping that whoever he had seen pass through the cave’s opening would come back, even if (and they probably were) the intentions behind their “capture” were no good, if they were indeed captured as he suspected, any imprisonment with a way of escape was better than this hopeless disaster.

Merlin and Arthur lay beside each other, cold and hungry, as Merlin had been most of his childhood and as Arthur had experienced only a few times during expeditions. They looked into each other’s eyes and felt that their love for one another was the only thing keeping them together. 

Unbeknownst to them, Morgana’s eyes flashed golden for a minute, and Arthur and Merlin, confused on the ground, felt the cave fade into inexistence all around them very suddenly.

The moonlight that was now all around them barely illuminated the clearing that they found themselves in, but, bundled up around each other, the men immediately saw who they were being put up against. The tall trees around them simulated the rocky walls, but they went on in a way that, even through their ordeal, had Arthur’s breaths feeding his lungs easier. There were no rocks... They'd been running through the forest when they hid... and the bandits were confused because they were completely visible. That's why they'd looked right at Arthur when he'd peeked his head out of the cave.

Merlin’s eyes could barely hold themselves open, but even he could discern the shape of their most frequent and vicious enemy, a woman whose veins ran in pure bitterness, and, encompassed in Arthur’s arms and weak, he had never felt more impotent and helpless to help the man.

He tried to summon his magic again, which had never really left but felt like a new piece of parchment, but he felt a weakness, an exhaustion running bone deep into himself almost as if the sudden dryness and heat had dealt him a physical blow, and as he lost consciousness, he looked up at Arthur and saw the man’s eyes harden as he had many times before.

Arthur reached for his sword instinctually, but with a flash of gold it was at the women’s feet. His hands turned to fists, and he gripped the grass where his sword's handle would have been.

Morgana tutted. 

“No, no, no, Arthur… This is no time for violence, my brother. This is just a small family reunion. Tell me, how fares your manservant?”

Arthur growled and puffed his chest, but he couldn’t really stand up from his crouched position without letting Merlin’s lax body fall to the ground and leaving him unprotected. His hands tightened around the other man.

“Now, come on, ignoring me? Isn’t that a little childish? Are you mad that I damaged your toy?”

His jaw set and he rasped out:

“Shut up!”

Morgause, behind the High Priestess, smirked contently.

“Don’t be like that, in all fairness, your whole exchange was simply adorable to watch!” Said the blond woman.

Morgana’s smirk faded.

“Yes, it was…especially when you so kindly told this insignificant serving boy you didn’t care he has magic. Really, Arthur?" She walked towards him with a vengeance. "And you would legalize magic. FOR HIM? You bastard!”

The woman slapped him pointedly, jolting Merlin out of Arthur’s arms and standing over him, holding his face with one hand, her hand squeezing his jaw roughly. 

She stared deeply into his eyes. 

“Do you care more for this buffoon than you did for me?” She whispered threateningly. “Your sister? YOUR FAMILY?”

Arthur’s eyes brimmed with tears, but her own were dry and calculating. Weaponized. The words that hung in the air and deep within Arthur's chest were that she wasn't his real family. He dared not say it, though.

She let go of him and turned back to Morgause, trudging towards her and whispering something to the woman, who only nodded, silent and obeying.

“I hope you enjoy our scenery change. It’ll be your last.”

Morgause raised her arms, and they then found themselves in a dungeon, slowly appearing, first a cloud of heat and magic around them. They were in Morgana’s headquarters. The same they’d set out to find. Arthur clenched his teeth in anger. 

The dungeon had stone walls, steel bars and a hay-spread floor. They were all inside, and there were no doors visible from where they stood. It was very big, and there were tables lined with knives, swords and other weapons. 

They also had jars and jars of all sizes, familiar to Arthur from the times he’d gone to Gaius’s chambers seeking medicine or Merlin, spread out on the table carefully, as though it was of extreme importance that they be kept apart. They were surely poisons and potions.

Seeing Arthur’s eyes run through the room, Morgause and Morgana flashed their eyes gold, and their hands raised synchronised, throwing each man toward the walls so that they were facing each other and binding their wrists above themselves to the stone.

At this, Merlin’s eyes flew open and he screamed from the sheer pain emanating from the injury on his shoulder. 

Morgana let out a laugh.

“Oh, this will be very amusing.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry it took this long, the world is kind of falling apart if you haven't noticed and school has not been tolerant. A reminder that this is a time to listen and learn from black voices, to try to help by donating and signing petitions, to protest however you can. Also, happy pride! It is time, not to celebrate, but to fight for our rights again. Support black trans women! Support black people, trans people, and LGBT+ people! Together we have a fighting chance.


	12. In Chains

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Morgana and Morgause have them both exactly where they want them.

As soon as both women vanished, apparently content in letting them sit on that for the night, Arthur turned his body best he could toward Merlin, and showed his worry uncensored.

“Merlin? Talk to me!”

He couldn’t fathom what else to say. The injured man was obviously not well.

“I’m in a lot of pain Arthur, if you haven’t noticed, so what do you want me to say?” Merlin dragged out of himself, slightly slurring the words and alternating them with sharp intakes of breath. 

Arthur paused. What did he want to hear? That it would all be fine? That they’d make it out of there? That he could somehow find it in himself to magically let them out?

“I don’t know. I’m just…worried.”

Merlin sneaked a peak at him, his clenched eyes barely opening so he could show Arthur his signature smile and give him a small laugh.

“Worried about me? Well, you certainly have changed.”

Arthur was prevented of the small moment of amusement by the crippling image of Merlin’s head sagging to his chest. 

He just stared at the sorcerer who had somehow, in the last few days, managed to make himself infinitely present in his heart, beckoning his attention, and then, his despair. 

“This can’t be it.”

Merlin did not budge, but his lips quivered.

“I always knew I’d never get to spend my life with you.”

The King’s eyes widened, but he did not know what to say. Merlin did not, however, ask for any response, as his breathing turned into a wheezing but stable sound. Sleep did not come to Arthur during the night, as his eyes refused stubbornly to leave the other man’s form. 

Come morning, or whenever the sorceresses decided to enter the dungeon cell, Arthur’s heart felt desperate and numb with a strange mixture of yearning for what he had not yet had and could have had for long and fear of the possibility that he might never actually have it. 

A life with Merlin. 

In one night, only one journey of the moon through the sky, he had abandoned all his previous conceptions of his duties and his honor. What did it all even matter if he wasn’t happy? Those things weren’t linked to his ability to reign. 

What really aided him were his conversations with Merlin, the wise words that cared every little bit as much as he did for the people of Camelot, the advice, the calming and constant presence, the unwavering but questioning loyalty and belief in Arthur. 

How could he have been so blind? His love of Merlin, was born out of their life together, the strange way they complemented each other, their simple but powerful bond. 

He couldn’t let anything happen to this man. 

“Hello!” Morgana said too loudly. Too gleefully. 

Merlin jerked softly, his head turning painfully to look at their aggressor. 

The women brought in their hands a piece of bread and two glasses of water. They set it on the table, and turned to the men, a glint in their eyes Merlin had seen too many times on the eyes of the many corrupt souls that again and again threatened the King’s life. 

“So, boys… Here is how we are going to play this game, okay?” Morgana drawled. “One of you gets to eat the piece of bread, and each of you get this glass of water.” She paused. “We are not, after all, like the brutes in the palace you live in, tall and unsuspecting.”

Morgause secured their feet in chains with a flick of her hand, and their hands were freed. Arthur fell, but he was able to dampen the fall with his arms stretched out before him. Merlin fell unabashedly, only able to twist his body so he fell on his uninjured shoulder with a yelp.

Arthur tried reaching for the other man, but Morgause walked to stand in front of him with her billowing dress and cape. She stared him down with a smirk.

“But…” she savored the word. “Whoever eats the bread also gets some special treatment.”

Morgana let out a laugh that sounded obnoxious even to Merlin’s ringing ears. 

“We’ll let you decide how this one goes. See? We are kind, after all.”

Arthur responded instantly. 

“Merlin will have the food.”

His servant’s head snapped up sluggishly at this. 

“No! Arthur, you…”

“Merlin, that is an order,” he said, voice sharp and rough.

The sorcerer’s eyes widened in shock, and his mouth opened in protest, but before he could utter another word of protest, Morgana crouched down in front of Merlin and smiled.

“Good choice, brother.”

“Wait…” Merlin started feebly. 

She held the man’s chin tightly in her hands and grabbed his purple looking and unmoving hand, there placing the stale piece of bread.

His arm fell to the floor uselessly with the piece of bread in a pathetic display, and when Morgana laughed, the dark haired man simply picked up the piece of bread with his other hand and attempted to eat it without looking desperate.

There his experience with hunger helped him, having had practice hiding his contentment from his mother as a child, not wanting her to feel guilty about their situation. 

He took the first bite staring straight into Morgana’s eyes in a battle of wills, and as soon as he did so, she turned her back to him and looked directly at Arthur. 

“Let’s see what your little sorcerer is made of out, Arthur.” Her smile grew. “And especially… what you’re made out of.”

Morgause receded to the back of the room, standing in front of one of the tables and reaching for a small and unlabeled vial. With a wave of her hand, they were suspended again, Merlin having finished his miserable piece of food and both men having greedily drunken their glasses of water.

Merlin’s throat had felt so scratchy he had no idea how he’d been able to talk before the blessed cup of water, but with every drop he imagined what torture the two women had in store for them. Even his shoulder felt better, despite the rude and sudden binding.

He was afraid. He had his magic, but felt so weak he doubted he could even cast a simple fire-lighting spell. His eyes were locked with the blonde man’s.

The sorceresses stood in the middle of the room, looking at them mischievously. Enjoying each step of the tortuous game they’d created. 

Then, Morgause approached Arthur with the strange vial in hand and said, her voice low and commanding: 

“Open up.”

And, having no other choice, Arthur did the opposite of what every single one of his instincts advised him to and let the strange liquid trickle down his throat.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! I took some time off because I was away from home (and so, my computer), but I wrote some content for you during my trip (I'll probably post more this week as well). Love y'all, be safe <3


	13. Face to Face

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Torture (explicit). Morgana wants something from them. But what is it?

Merlin had been feeling numb for some time already. It was a mixture of pain and hopelessness, but as he saw Morgause’s hand tip back the vial into Arthur’s mouth, a wave of panic entered his chest abruptly and intensely.

The blonde man swallowed with a disgusted look and his eyes fluttered closed.

“No! What did you do?”

Morgana looked at him through the corner of her eyes.

“Not so sarcastic now, boy?”

She walked towards him slowly, her hands rising to his face, stretching and squeezing his skin as though to inspect him. Finally, her hand gripped his hair and pulled his head backwards. It hit the stone walls with a loud and sickening crack. 

His head felt like cotton on the inside, and his vision swam. He let out a low groan. 

“What’s so special about you, Merlin? What did you do to Arthur to make him so enthralled by you?”

Merlin spit out a curse, and Morgana frowned menacingly.

“You are just a simpleton. A common peasant. How did you get magic? How did you get the power to enchant my brother?”

With every inquiry, she tightened her hand on his hair, and through the mist that was Merlin’s vision, he could see only the bitterness in her eyes.

Merlin kept his lips tightly shut. He had something she could never have. He was good. He cared for Arthur. He loved him. Morgana just wanted the man to worship her, to own him, to use him as a pawn. 

She looked at him with both hate and desperation in her eyes. And he smiled.

By then, Arthur stirred. 

“The potion we gave will nourish him, keep him alive,” she said with a sly smile.

Next to Arthur, Morgause continued:

“But it will also render him immobile.”

Arthur’s eyes opened, but he had gone completely slack against the chains. His look showed worry, and Merlin wanted nothing more than to leave then, scared of the uncharacteristic show of emotion from the King. 

Did the man truly care about him that much? Or did he fear that Merlin would reveal the many secrets of Camelot that he was privy to, as Arthur’s manservant and confidant?

Morgause went around the small room and started fiddling with the instruments laid out on the table. She picked up a small but very sharp knife.

“I’ll start small, you know. So I have somewhere to go…”

Morgana retreated from Merlin’s form, approaching Arthur’s unconscious-looking body, and the sorcerer’s heart jumped. 

However, once she reached the King, all she did was whisper in his ear and hold his head toward Merlin. The look in Arthur’s eyes would probably be engraved into Merlin’s memory forever. It was as if his heart had just been broken right in front of his eyes.

Morgause approached him, and as the cold knife met the already frayed skin of his injured shoulder, Merlin just felt happy it was him who the knife had gone into, and not Arthur. 

Those thoughts completely faded away as the dead skin around the injury, infected and numb, rushed back to life and protested the treatment dreadfully. 

Blood resurfaced from the wound and the stench uncovered by the simple cuts almost rendered the young man unconscious. The dried blood was covered by waves of new blood, that, hot and sticky, mixed with the infected skin and pus and burned. 

The pieces of skin that were holding together his torso and his arm were all red, yellow and blue. The muscles beneath the knife quivered. 

“I don’t even care about him!” Arthur said, knowing it to be uselessly. “I won’t tell you anything if you just keep at it with my servant!”

Through those simple, small cuts, Merlin remained silent. But internally, he was screaming. In fact, he wasn’t sure if the cream that rang so painfully through his body from his shoulder would ever stop ringing in his ears. Even Arthur’s lies cut into him, into his bones and insecurities. 

He looked at Morgause. 

“Tell me, Arthur, where would one find the Essetir entrance to the Camelot tunnels?”

Arthur’s mouth trembled open. His eyes were stretched incredibly wide. He hated how useless he felt, his muscled arms useless, hanging like the rest of his body from the pathetic chains of the small dungeon.

“There aren’t any. They run only underneath Camelot.”

Morgana tilted her face toward the other woman. 

Morgause let go of her knife and stalked over to the table. She then held up a much longer and thinner knife. Her hand lingered before it, her eyes closed. She muttered a spell under her breath, and the blade began to turn orange, then white. 

Merlin’s already battered body, reacting to his instinctual aversion to the sight, shuddered as he tried, in vain, to press himself closer to the walls.

“It’s true! There weren’t any tunnels built under Essetir! The alliance had been long gone before the plans even started!”

Morgause stepped closer to Merlin, and Morgana stood by, deliberately not looking at Arthur at her side. 

“Morgana!”

She smiled.

Morgause held the long knife in her hands carefully, the white hot blade pointed up, and ran her tongue over her lips.

She stood almost in contact with Merlin’s retreating body, the knife between them. Then, she pulled him forward by his lower back. The man stood very still. 

The burning hot knife penetrated the muscles on his back, and he felt tears instantly pour out of his eyes. A breath left his lips, emptying his lungs. 

His entire back and already eviscerated shoulder clenched, trying desperately to avoid, dodge, squirm away from the intrusion, but it was pointless. The knife slid in, ripping tendons in a trail of pain. 

For a couple of moments, Morgause kept the knife inside him, an unmoving iron rod that demanded the rearranging of his insides, burning everything around it like a festering virus. 

Arthur yelled out again, his voice even less poised. Merlin realized he’s let out, as the knife slid in, a long whimper that soon became a yell. 

“There are no tunnels underneath Essetir! There couldn’t be an entrance. Stop!”

Morgause held the handle with strong fingers, and without preamble, pulled it out quickly. 

Merlin immediately sagged against the wall, and his sickly arm lost all feeling. He began to feel pain in his collarbone and torso, and his eyes drifted closed, knowing his blood was not circulating past his injury anymore.

The man heard Morgana’s voice through the sound of his blood rushing in his ears, somehow. 

“We know. Now, answer me, Arthur, where are Uther’s private books?”

Arthur stared at her in shock and anger.

“I’ve searched every inch of the castle before I left. Where. Are. They?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey-o! Another chapter for you guys! Please comment if you've got something to say, I love reading your thoughts, and tell me if you guys like the new storyline with these mysterious non-cannon books! Thank you :)


	14. Hands Off

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> More torture. Morgana wants Merlin's hands off of those books. Or maybe just off in general.

Merlin smiled, his teeth tainted red. And laughed. The three other people stared at him in shock. He sounded like a madman. 

“He can’t tell you. I destroyed them. I destroyed them!”

Morgana’s eyes widened with fury.

“You imbecile! There were valuable coordinates, war plans and tactics, a complete map of Camelot’s weaknesses and strengths inside those books. Catalogs of every single thing that entered and exited the palace’s walls, – ”

“Yes! And his private thoughts as well, you know.” Merlin smiled again weakly. He felt light. “I doubt very much you were looking for political information, Morgana.”

The woman stepped closer to him, screaming:

“You know nothing!”

“Except for what daddy dearest thought about his ward…”

Silence followed, broken only by Merlin’s maniacal giggles. Arthur was looking at him with worry and apprehension. He had also looked for those books. Through all his father had put him through, Arthur still had the desire to know if his father had loved him. Had he, at any point, had his approval? 

Morgana stalked back to Arthur and closed a hand around his throat. 

“What did he think?” She asked, in a small and commanding voice.

Merlin sobered immediately. 

“What did he write?” She bellowed, tightening her hand. Arthur let out a deep, strangled gasp. A wave of adrenaline filled Merlin’s body.

“Stop that, no! He wrote that he loved you!”

She tightened her hold further and screamed:

“No he didn’t!”

“He did! He said betraying you was one of his biggest mistakes in this world! Let him go!”

Arthur’s face had gone slightly read, and he was wheezing. His lips parted.

“Morgana, you won’t be satisfied with anything he could say.” A pause, a breath. “Our father was a deeply twisted man.” Another breath. Her hand loosened. “He only had room for hate in his heart.” Her hand dropped from his throat. “We both know it.”

“No, Arthur.” She said, before grabbing the thickest knife, almost saw-like in its form, and putting it to Merlin’s unsuspecting, tense body. “He only had room in his heart to love you.”

Morgana then, without so much as a second of hesitation, sawed Merlin’s arm off of his body. 

All at once, the arm hit the floor with a resounding and disgusting sound of flesh hitting stone, Arthur screamed at Morgana a deafening sound of pain released straight from his heart and Merlin let out a bout of magic so strong that resounded through the walls, echoing briefly before destroying the very stone around them. 

Morgana fell to her knees, and Merlin sagged against the chain holding his only arm over his head, screaming. Morgause looked dazed, and turned to Arthur, looking around frantically to see if his restraints had failed.

They hadn’t, but around them was a different setting. A cottage in the woods. This was what they had initially been searching for. Not a castle with a dungeon, but a small cottage. Morgana did not have the resources, even allied to the King of Essetir, to have a castle. 

Arthur felt his feet regaining strength. He could stand.

The blond woman knelt next to Morgana, who was clenching her head between her hands. 

They left the cottage without a word or a glance at the two men.

The Knights were starting to get frustrated. It had been more than a week since they had been separated from Merlin and Arthur and they still hadn’t found a single indication of the men’s location. It was, quite literally, like they had vanished.

Gwaine threw his canteen on the ground roughly. They all sat in silence. Night had fallen, and the absence of the sun only reminded them of the unlikelihood they’d ever find their friends. 

The Knights stared at the ground morosely.

Percival stood up and grabbed Gwaine’s canteen, holding it out to him as well as placing a comforting hand on his shoulder. 

The long-haired man, however, was still very mad, and just threw it again on the ground.

“We’ll never find them!”

Leon stood at the man’s shout, and looked into Gwaine’s eyes.

“We will search until that has proven to be the truth, Gwaine, but we have a duty to our King…”

Gwaine shoved off Percival’s hand on his shoulder and took a step back, looking at all the other Knights, heads hanging to the ground hopelessly.

“When will that be? It’s been more than a week, Leon! No trace! No rail! Not even a whiff of them!” He sat down and opened his thrown about canteen, drinking it ferociously. 

“What do you want? To stop searching? We have to at least try!” Yelled out Lancelot.

They had all been holding up the illusion that finding the King and his manservant was an inevitable outcome, but every day that passed it was harder to hold onto that belief. And so everyone’s claws were coming out.

“Yes, Gwaine,” continued Leon comprehensively, “we have a duty to find our King.”

Gwaine unlatched his mouth from the canteen and stood up again, this time furiously. 

“Stop speaking as if that’s what matters!”

His scream was so loud, it caused Leon and Percival to step backwards, Lancelot to stand, and Elyan, who was still sitting down, to look up inquisitively. 

“Merlin is my friend! Yes, Arthur can be insufferable, but he is still. Our. Friend. And I care for them deeply. Well, at least for Merlin.” He took a breath. “What does it matter that Arthur is our King? He’s our friend. And Merlin…”

Gwaine looked at the ground, tears in his eyes. 

“He doesn’t deserve to be in this situation. He’s so kind…” His voice grew small. “You all know it.”

Leon hesitantly spoke.

“Yes, they are our friends, Gwaine, you are right. But… It’s easier to not think of them like our friends.” Leon stood next to Gwaine and pat his back. “Because then it’s harder to focus on finding them. That’s what we need to do.”

A half-smile seemed to grace the Knights, their spirits slowly returning. 

“What if we can’t?” Rasped out Lancelot. 

But that question, fortunately, did not need to be answered, as they all suddenly felt the same chill. A call. Finally, a trail. 

And Lancelot knew that they had to follow it. Immediately.


	15. The Day of Reckoning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Merlin and Arthur say their goodbyes. The Knights struggle to get to them.

The Knights trudged forward on horseback, Lancelot leading the trail they all felt but did not understand.

The man was just so certain that the hope that swelled in his chest infected all those around him, even as doubt clouded their minds. 

“Lancelot, what are we following? This trail…” Gwaine protested weakly, as he struggled to grip the reason for the absolute turn in morale.

“Yes, it is magic.”

They all stiffened on top of their horses at Lancelot’s words.

“Then why are we following it? Morgana could have set it up as a trap!” Argued Leon.

“It wasn’t Morgana!”

Leon was taken aback by Lancelot’s outburst from his usual cool demeanor. So was Gwaine. 

“How can we know it wasn’t her?” The long-haired man tried.

“And if not her, who is it?” Percival backed him up. 

There was nothing but the sound of the horses’ hooves against the forest floor, covered by brownish leaves until Lancelot pronounced himself again.

“Merlin.”

The first to speak, surprisingly, was Elyan, who nobody thought was that close to Merlin. 

“Of course Merlin… This explains so much.”

Gwaine’s eyes glassed over, pensive as he remembered all the instances where things around them just seemed to happen conveniently and without explanation. 

“Like the mysterious sorcerer that healed my father,” continued Elyan. 

Leon was tight-lipped. Among those knights, he had been the only one serving Uther and not Arthur for some time, and the man’s views on sorcery were very much a part of him. 

“And how he could fight alongside us…” Percival muttered. “He couldn’t maneuver a sword if his life depended on it. And it has!”

The large man didn’t seem too bothered. Gwaine was quiet.

“He told you?” He asked Lancelot.

Lancelot shook his head and briefly explained the conditions in which he met Merlin and how his magic had never been much of an issue with them. He still seemed a bit hurt. After all, he did consider Merlin to be his best friend. 

He had trusted the other man with all his secrets, his life! And Merlin had never felt he could tell him.

Nobody really spoke for a while, as Lancelot was very concentrated in getting to the King and his manservant, and most of them were trying to process the news, while Elyan and Percival just seemed to be misplaced in the awkwardness around them. They shared a complacent look.

Arthur pulled at his chains, now only bound in wood, while he stared at Merlin’s body. The other man looked completely driven down by the sheer exhaustion.

“Merlin”, he started. “Merlin, please look at me.”

He could clearly see the tears falling down the man’s pale cheeks, mixing with his sweat, making him look sickly and frustratingly familiar to Arthur.

“This is nothing! This is nothing! You’ll be alright, Merlin.”

The man’s eyes travelled to meet Arthur’s.

“No, it won’t be.” His voice was calm and resigned, and that scared Arthur more than he’d ever be willing to admit. “Not for me. I’m bleeding out, I have an infection, I’m too cold…”

The blonde man’s throat dried up.

Time seemed to slow for him, and he could hear his heart beating in his ears. 

“But it’s not over for you. You’re a great King, Arthur.” This was goodbye. “Better than you know. You have a… great destiny ahead of you.” That was Merlin’s serious voice, feeble and sickly, so opposite all his usual traits. Arthur hated it. He wanted it to stop, but he felt he couldn’t interrupt. “I just won’t be a part of it.”

There was no telling when Morgana and Morgause would be back. Or if they were even coming back. Leaving them to die was a painful punishment anyway, and they knew they weren’t going to get what they wanted. So he had to make his words brief.

“Merlin, my life, my destiny… it’s linked to you. It has to be. My life changed so much since you arrived in Camelot. I owe my happiness to you, my victories, my success as a King. It can’t be over for you because I love you too much.”

Blood was staining Merlin’s clothes rapidly, and Arthur knew that he had to do something soon or else… the time he’d thought he’d lost with Merlin because of his obliviousness and short sightedness would never be made up for. 

“Arthur, I… I love you so much. But perhaps I’m just not meant to be with you.”

Their eyes were glistening with tears, their hearts beating fast. It felt like the end.

“I’m the one who works silently, unseen. Maybe it’s my destiny to die for you now. I’m merely a shadow of what you will do…” The warlock started coughing.

“I can’t do it without you, Merlin!”

“Yes, you can!” He yelled, blood staining his lips and dripping down his chin. “Or you’ll just have to learn to.”

They both stood in silence, simply looking at each other. No words needed to be said. 

“I don’t want to.”

Merlin chuckled half-heartedly, his eyes full of longing. 

“Spoiled ponce.”

As the signal got stronger, the Knights felt more and more tense. Leon was trying to block out the fact that his friend was an illegal sorcerer, and Gwaine was seriously trying to work through his jealousy. Though it felt easy for both as their worry surfaced. 

They reached a small and dark clearing, on the border of which there was a small cottage. Lancelot wasted no time in dismounting his horse, unsheathing his sword and walking forward in long strides. 

The rest of the Knights did their best in following him, Leon tripping over, used to being the commanding presence when Arthur was absent. 

Lancelot touched a hand to the locked door and swung his sword at it brutally, breaking the wood but not succeeding in entering the cottage.

“Magic…” he whispered. 

Leon trudged forward and put his ear to the plant-covered walls. 

“My King? Merlin?”

They heard an eerie silence in response. 

They all turned to Lancelot.

“It has to be here,” the man said, and began to repeatedly slam his sword against the house. The other Knights hesitantly followed suit. 

And as the walls came down, they saw a glimpse of what that time had done to their friends. And it made them angry.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey!! I hope you're enjoying this ending (please leave me your thoughts). i think there are two chapters in the future for this :)


	16. Even Though

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Even though Merlin is on the brink of death and Arthur is hopeless to save him, even though their love seems impossible, it's the only thing Arthur can think of as his life, and not someone else's. Even though Morgana's left alone by her family, it doesn't mean she must be alone.

There was a moment of silence as they observed the scene before them. Everything stood still.

Arthur was on his knees, his arms strained in chains above his head. His eyes showed a sadness that none present were ready to witness. He was bruised and seemed defeated. Leon rushed to his side, exclaiming “My King!”

In front of Arthur laid the sight of Merlin’s crumpled body, drenched in blood, his one arm limp and stretched above him, eyes closed. And his severed arm, bruised purple and green before him. 

Gwaine’s heart fell from his chest, and he instantly hit his knees on the floor in front of the servant. He gathered the man in his arms, his head slack and mouth slightly open, showing a tone of red that brought the feeling of absolute panic to Gwaine’s lungs. He struggled to keep from completely losing his composure. 

Lancelot immediately ran to the wall, carefully using his sword to take down the chains holding Merlin up. 

“My friend, open your eyes…” said Gwaine cautiously. He was afraid. 

Elyan and Percival ran to help Leon untie Arthur, whose eyes were just as empty as they had been seconds before. He had barely reacted to the Knights’ entrance.

“He won’t.”

They all looked at Arthur, except for Gwaine, who remained looking intently at Merlin’s closed eyes.

“My King… We need to get out of here, now! We know not when the sorceress might return!” Ushered Leon. 

Arthur let himself be helped up by Percival and Elyan. Leon turned around to scout the area before they left the cottage. 

“Merlin…” Gwaine whispered. The man held his hand under Merlin’s nose and felt a faint, shaky breath.

Percival and Elyan turned around to look at their friends. Their eyes conveyed the same hope that was rapidly filling the troublemaker holding the young amputee.

When they had Arthur settled on Leon’s horse, which they’d ride together (as they did anytime one of them suffered injury), Percival went back into the cottage, where Gwaine and Lancelot struggled to hold up Merlin’s body.

Percival gently pushed them aside to hoist Merlin up to his arms. He carried the man in bridal style, and that was a sight all too familiar to all the men involved. 

While Merlin had been lucky enough to miraculously recover from the touch of the Dorocha, none were confident that he’d be okay after this ordeal. Percival settled him with Lancelot on a horse, just like he’d done on the other occasion. 

Once they’d all climbed upon their horses, a sense of hurry fell upon their stretch of earth. 

Morgana and Morgause had fled to their primary headquarters, a stretch of caved in land. They had based their cave illusion greatly on their place. It wasn’t as cold or wet, though, but perfectly acclimated to both the women’s needs. 

“Sister!” bellowed out Morgause, watching as the other woman tripped over her own feet. 

She tried to help the other woman, her arms rising as a supportive force on her waist.

“Do not touch me!” Morgana yelled very loudly, pushing the other away and falling atop the wooden table with all their books on spells and such. Their hours researching for the trap were open on the woman’s face.

Morgana’s dark locks of hair covered the tears falling down her face, but Morgause knew that the other woman was deeply bothered. 

“Morgana…”

“He made his choice! They all did!” She yelled at the table, her arms sweeping up everything unfortunate enough to be in her path. Books ripped as they fell to the ground and vials broke on the stones below. “Even that boy! So loyal to Arthur… Was I not kinder? More understanding? Yet he tried to kill me…”

Morgause looked at the woman, who was pacing and leaning on the walls heavily, as if she were too dizzy to even stand. 

“So powerful…yet he remains at Arthur’s side. Loyal, taking the abuse of hiding his own self for years and years. I don’t understand how…why…”

She fell to the floor in a heap. 

Morgause, who had always been subdued from speech by the woman’s power and ruthlessness, fell to her knees at Morgana’s side. 

“High Priestess…You don’t need them. I’ve chosen you. The sorcerers and sorceresses will choose you – ”

“He will legalize magic! Why would they choose me? They’d have to be as bitter as I am…” the woman looked up at Morgause, for once without the arrogant, entitled smirk creeping to her eyes. “I don’t think anyone is.”

Truth was, Morgana would have given everything to be able to show her true self before she’d turned against Camelot. She assumed the same thing applied to each magic-blessed being that either chose to hide or fight. And the ones that chose to fight… Just as her, had nothing to fight against anymore.

Finally. 

“We’re still together.”

“Yes, we are.” Morgana smiled. 

And for the first time since she’d left Camelot, it was a genuine smile. 

Arthur could not bear to look at Merlin’s slumped over silhouette, his pale cheek resting on Lancelot’s shoulder. His heart felt slack in sadness and spicy in jealousy. He wished to be the one pillowed by the man, to hold him in his arms in sickness. 

That seemed like a null feeling compared to his debilitating hopelessness. The look in Merlin’s eyes as he’d uttered his last words to Arthur had been etched into his memory so strongly he felt that, if he were made of stone, the carving would be so deep he’d surely crack.

However, the pure desperation seeping off of Gwaine and the hopes in Lancelot’s ever so expressive eyes were taking hold of Arthur.

He couldn’t dare to hope. He’d done it too long. Since they’d fallen and Merlin’s shoulder had shattered. Merlin’s arm… His servant could survive anything in Arthur’s eyes, but this would definitely take a toll on the man. He deserved so much more. 

This was the life Arthur had to offer. It wasn’t even much of a life anyway. Full of danger and distance. How could he ask it of the cheerful young man? He had his whole life ahead of him. 

Arthur had a destiny he’d been attached to for forever. Merlin had been linked to it closely… But was this what they were meant for? It was hard to believe that this was in any way written in the stars. 

This love they shared… It was so natural in many ways, but so unattached to their reality. How could they do it? 

Could they even do it? Arthur asked himself, looking at Merlin’s figure. Oh God, he hoped they could.

Because he'd finally felt like himself with Merlin, and not just the King of Camelot.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey-o guys! Probs gonna be one more chapter or two in the future, but we are nearing the end!! Dun dun duuuuun. If any of you have any fit requests you'd like to read from me, i accept suggestions fully (I need a project after this one, after all).   
> Love y'all,  
> Bee.


	17. By Your Side

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arthur won't leave Merlin's side. Will Guinevere leave his? Is Arthur willing to leave hers?

Guinevere stared out of the King and Queen’s window, somber. She was incredibly upset because of Arthur and Merlin’s disappearance. 

Even though she had grown distant from Merlin since their close friendship for the years after he’d arrived in Camelot, she was still very much fond of the boy and Arthur was her closest companion in this world. 

A part of her, however, secretly rejoiced upon the opportunity to rid herself of their marriage. She loved him, that was for sure. But perhaps more as a friend and confidant. She enjoyed the post of Queen as well, but her heart did not lie with them in bed every night.

The truth was that Lancelot was in her thoughts more than she’d like to admit. His caring eyes, calming voice and muscular physique had always enthralled her, but his heart was the reason why she was stuck, in heart and mind, in him. 

She never dared to hope that Arthur would not return, because in that case she would lose her friend. A great King. An amazing man. 

But the guilt arose in her chest anyway. The more time he was away, the more guilt she felt at the slight hope she’d be able to live out her life with Lancelot. 

She did think, however, that Arthur’s heart was not exclusive to her either. Her husband and Merlin were so close that sometimes she wondered why they hadn’t married instead. 

When she finally saw the Knight coming back, more bodies atop the horses than when they’d left hurriedly and desperately, her chest was lifted in happiness and smothered in shame.

The Knights took Merlin to Gaius so fast that the people they passed by did not even have time to comprehend the presence of the King after his disappearance and the beloved servant’s state. 

The old man was sitting by his bookshelf, half-heartedly reading a very thick medicine book when his door was all but broken off of its hinges and the Knights piled in after Percival. 

“He needs immediate medical attention!” said Arthur, whose desperation tumbled out shakily with every word. 

Gaius’ eyes widened and he gestured frantically to the cot beside his medical supplies. He sat down beside his nephew and assessed him in seconds, from the stump on his shoulder to the knife wounds on his back and torso. He was also bruised and borderline hypothermic, his lips purple and dripping blood. 

The man swallowed heavily as he looked at the young man he’d looked after for all those years and, closing his eyes for a brief second, distanced himself completely from himself. He had to help Merlin. 

While he worked, he did not refuse help from the Knights nor did he ask them to leave. In fact, the man was so focused he did not speak to any of them when it wasn’t for the purpose of fetching things or adjusting them. 

Arthur had sat down next to the cot, his eyes large and fearful. Lancelot sat down next to him and quietly tried to get Arthur some medical attention. He drunk what felt like a gallon of water and let the other man bandage and rub balm on his wounds. 

His eyes, however, had never left Merlin’s body. 

After a considerable amount of time, just as the sun set, Merlin was entirely bandaged and Gaius declared that there was nothing more he could do aside from wrap the boy in blankets and give him food and water as soon as he awoke. 

Gwaine and Lancelot were the only ones still around at that point, seeing as Arthur had ordered Elyan, Leon and Percival to take care of explaining their return. When they had hesitantly mention they did not know the full story, Arthur just sat silently next to Merlin. 

“Tell them what you know. I’ll stay here.”

They did not say a word, but left. They knew about the bond between those two men. 

Once Gaius made that declaration, however, the three men were forced to leave. They stood outside the door for a few moments. 

“I hope he’s alright after this,” said Lancelot.

“He will be. He has to…” continued Gwaine with a huskiness in his voice, eyes on the ground. 

Arthur remained silent. They walked their separate ways and, for the first time in a fortnight, Arthur was alone. Without Merlin. 

It felt lonelier and colder than the castle’s stone walls. 

When he got to his room, Guinevere was standing in her night gown, worriedly setting the table where their food had already been served. Not by Merlin… She still had the habit of doing those things sometimes. 

“Arthur!”

As soon as her arms wrapped around him, he relaxed. He did feel, however, a strange and displaced feeling. Like he couldn’t find something.

“Gwen…”

She stepped back and held his face in her hands. That’s when he started getting emotional. 

“I didn’t think he was going to live. Even now, I think… he might not…”

“He’s Merlin. He will be okay.”

They stood there a second, and she leaned in for a kiss. Arthur stepped back, however. He wasn’t sure if he felt his own had been tarnished by Merlin’s kiss or if he felt her lips would erase the other man’s. 

She looked at him inquisitively. 

“I’m sorry,” he said. “I don’t know what came over me, I…”

They sat down to eat, and did so without sharing another word. 

“What happened, Arthur? You were gone…” She reached out for Arthur’s hand, and he tensed it. “Was Morgana a part of this?” He remained silent. “Please, I just want to be there for you.”

“We fell… into a cave. No, an illusion created by Morgana. We were stuck there while Merlin was injured. Later, we were transferred to a dungeon, but it turns out it was actually a cottage all along. They tortured us for information.” Guinevere nodded throughout his speech, her eyes worried. “Nothing too bad on my end. They wanted to know about my father’s books… Turns out Merlin had destroyed them. So…”

“They? They who?”

Arthur swallowed. 

“Morgana and Morgause.”

She squeezed his hand tighter. 

“I know you were looking for those books…”

“They didn’t matter that much to me.”

Gwen looked confused. He had, in fact, cared a lot about those books, but with everything that had happened, he realized he didn’t need the approval of a man he himself didn’t approve of. And who was dead.

“I have to tell you something. I – I love you, Guinevere. But I – ”

She knew where he was going before he even finished his sentence. She’d seen it coming from a mile away, in fact. 

“You love Merlin more.”

And nothing seemed to her, more true or more right.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another one this week!! Next one will be the last :)   
> Hope you've all enjoyed this!! Please comment leaving your thoughts and maybe suggestions for a new fic I'll definitely write after this one?   
> Byeeee, Bee  
> (Ain't no lie, baby bi bi bi)


	18. Destiny

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's not ideal, but it's the hand they've been dealt. And they couldn't be more grateful.

As they finished their meal, both shared the same thought.

In a life so short, they had settled with the next best thing, the number two. And even though they had something great together, their hearts would always yearn for beyond what they could possibly have together.

By the end of their meal, both had shared their stories, their feeling and thoughts, and were all too ready to separate. Because of their alliance with the church, divorce was not an option on the table, but there were other ways. 

Almost all Kings and Queens had this arrangement or a similar one. Arthur had a feeling Merlin wouldn’t want to be King anyway, and he still had to produce an heir someday. Or maybe not. But that would come as later plans. 

They smiled at each other lovingly and slept side by side (for what they both assumed to be) the very last time. 

On the next day, Gwen talked with Lancelot and explained the whole arrangement, of course, without mentioning merlin and Arthur. He had been ecstatic and they shared a kiss on the spot. 

The Knights were taking turns visiting Merlin in the infirmary, and Gwen participated in worrying for their friend in that manner as well. Arthur pretty much stayed there for the next few days, begging him without words to wake up.

Lancelot and Gwaine, having recovered from the initial shock of Merlin’s condition and having nowhere to focus their energy, were very angry at Morgana and Morgause, and they spent a large chunk of their time discussing how to find and possibly maim the women. 

They were, in large, just waiting for Merlin to wake up. 

When he did finally wake up, Arthur was asleep next to his cot. He hadn’t slept there every day, but it just so happened that his eyes had slipped closed while he carted his fingers through Merlin’s hair. 

They had never had that sort of intimate contact before, yet Arthur found himself inexplicably missing it.

Merlin’s blue eyes opened and his hand was being held by Arthur’s in a loose grip. Gaius was already at his desk, mixing a potion, and it felt like everything was the same, but better. 

It sucked that his arm had been the price to pay. He felt pain where it was supposed to be, but he could see that there was no limb. Therefore, there shouldn’t be pain. But there was.

He really wanted for his first words to be a sarcastic quip, but it came out as a strangled cry instead. It was so low in volume that Arthur did not wake. So perhaps he could have his quip anyway. Later. 

Then, Arthur stirred, and his eyes opened. 

Through the pain, Merlin marched.

“Kind of you to give me a hand,” he smiled. 

Arthur’s smile slowly grew on his lips, and he held Merlin closely to his chest. The young man started to have a coughing fit, his body completely ignoring the need to be near Arthur. 

Gaius almost sprinted to his side, bottle of water already in hand. 

“Merlin! You’re okay!”

After several seconds of Merlin drinking the water and ridding himself of the awful scratchiness in his throat, he replied to Gaius.

“Are you sure? I seem to be missing something… Can’t quite put my finger on it….”

The comment was light hearted, and Merlin delivered it smiling, but he did seem a bit thrown off and upset by his lack of, well, arm…

Arthur’s hand rose to the man’s cheek, tenderly caressing it with his thumb. He didn’t care that Gaius was there. Neither did Merlin.

He slowly leaned forward and their lips touched softly. It was barely a kiss. Just a gesture that held maybe too much behind it. We aren’t going to hide this. I love you. Everything will change and, at the same time, you’re still the same to me.

He hoped Merlin understood. Judging by the smile on his lips, he did. 

That night, Gaius made Merlin’s favorite food and happily let the young man go to the pub with the Knights. Every single one of them had hugged Merlin tightly (even Leon, whose ideals linked to Uther were rapidly flying out the window). Gwaine had held him closest of all, though Lancelot was a close second. 

Merlin was nearly overwhelmed with all the friends around him who’d been worried and whose eyes now shone with contentment and relief.

They were all smiling and laughing. For the day, they wouldn’t talk about Merlin’s magic or Arthur’s arm around him. For the day, they wouldn’t discuss bitterness, revenge or torture. 

They’d only rejoice in the beautiful knowledge that they were all alive and happy. Arthur’s hand did not leave Merlin’s (except for when the warlock wanted to take a swing out of his mead) and his eyes were glued to the man’s smile.

Despite all the things that had happened to them, Arthur couldn’t help but smile as well. He was surrounded by people who loved and accepted him. He found Merlin and, even though he took a while, lovingly discovered him as the love of his life. They were together.

“Look at what we’ve got. You and me.” He remembered Merlin saying. 

Yes, as long as they stood together, no war was going to tear them apart. As long as they stood together, it would all be ok.

Because they were destined for each other.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Final chapter! Thank you to anyone who's stuck around!!! It really makes my day to read your comments :) I'm always available to chat and open to fic requests!!! If you like Johnlock, go check out the fic I've just started writing, "In Between" :)  
> See ya soon,  
> Bee <3

**Author's Note:**

> Hey guys! So, I always welcome some constructive criticism or corrections on grammar, so please feel free to comment and tell me what you think, want, etc. Byee!


End file.
